Missed Opportunities
by Delilah's Soliloquy
Summary: A empty fishbowl prompts Horace Slughorn to reflect on the students that slipped through his fingers, and the opportunities that passed them all by.


_As a teacher, it never fails to sadden me when students who I once taught-young, full of promise-give up in one way or another. Some join gangs, some spend their time in school disrespecting their teachers, picking on their classmates and refusing to work...either way, it's a loss and a waste. I always saw Slughorn as viewing his students first for their potential, secondly for who they are in and of themselves. Tragedy, however, can force a change of perspective, and make a person realize that it's never too late...is it?_

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><p><span>Missed Opportunities<span>

Horace Slughorn eyed the empty fishbowl with a feeling of failure.

Of course, the bowl hadn't always been empty. He tried in vain to recall the delight he'd felt as he'd walked into his classroom that morning and seen the vacant, water-filled bowl resting on his desk. At first, he'd chalked it up to some less-apt pupil trying to butter him up for a better grade. That smarmy Potter boy seemed the type…

But when he spotted the flower petal, plucked from a pure white lily, floating on the surface, he knew this was not a bribe, but a _gift_. And after Lily had grown and left school for bigger things, Horace had resolved to cherish Francis in her absence.

He'd been sure that Lily's career, whatever she should choose to do, would be astronomical. She was so bright, so inquisitive…and her charm and vivacity would have paved the way to a bright future. She could've easily become one of the most celebrated, innovative potioneers of the twentieth century, and wherever she went, people would say, "Yes, one of old Slughorn's protégées."

But she'd married that Potter boy, not long after leaving school, even though not too long ago she'd flat-out refused even to partner with him in Slughorn's Potions classes. No accolades. No brilliant career. Just hiding and a baby and then…nothing. Her beauty, sleeping forever beneath the cold ground. Such a waste.

When he'd woken _that morning_ and made his way over to feed Francis, only to find the bowl empty and know in his heart that the precious gift had left the world only because its giver had done the same, Horace spared not a single thought to the promising future Lily had left behind. That would come later. His first emotions were that of a father, mourning the loss of a beloved only child. She was irreplaceable.

It was only later, once he could think rationally again, that he lamented the lost opportunities that accompanied Lily's death. The discoveries she might have made, the people whose lives she could have changed…all lost.

As the years went by, Horace realized with a heavy heart that Lily wasn't the only one. It seems that Horace Slughorn, too, lived a life of lost opportunities.

There was Tom Riddle, for example. He'd been the one who'd started all this mess, who took Lily and countless others away. Horace replayed the conversation in his mind countless times, hoping to find a way to alleviate his guilt. But no matter how he looked at it, the fact remained the same: it was he who'd given Tom Riddle the tools he'd used to become Lord Voldemort. In effect, it was _he_ who'd murdered Lily. Deep down, Horace knew he'd never forgive himself.

And what of Severus Snape, Lily's friend? It wasn't often you'd see one without the other, back in their earlier years. Horace knew that others sometimes wrote him off as being a bit blustering, a bit dim, but even he could see the rudimentary signs. Young Severus certainly matched Lily's brilliance, but clearly lacked her charm and confidence. It didn't take a Legilimens to see that his home life was far from happy. And his ongoing rivalry with that gang of Gryffindor boys, Potter and Black's gang…_if only I'd tried a little harder to stop all that unpleasantness between them, _thought Horace gloomily. Perhaps then he'd have been able to keep Severus from falling through the cracks and into the Death Eaters. He certainly didn't look too happy these days…Horace tried to look his former student in the eyes without feeling he was partly to blame for the sorrows that now burdened him. If only he'd caught it in time, perhaps Severus, scarcely out of Hogwarts himself when he'd had to answer for his crimes, could have been spared a much older person's suffering.

The Black family…they had all, with one exception, been Horace's charges, even if comparatively few of them were _real_ favorites of his. Regulus had been a good boy—a reasonably good student, a talented Seeker, and above all, eager to please. Perhaps this was his fatal flaw—his eagerness to please his elders, which had so charmed Horace, caught poor Regulus in Lord Voldemort's snare. He never saw his eighteenth birthday. A horrible end for a sweet boy. And that Sirius…true, he was a bully, but if Horace had put an end to his schoolyard antics, maybe it would've ended there. Horace could see the beginnings of cruelty in young Sirius' school days, but he never would have guessed that the handsome, grinning boy would grow up to betray and murder his dearest friends.

The Black sisters were even more of a disappointment. Horace wondered when Bellatrix, the eldest, had started to show the now-obvious instincts for cruelty that she'd become infamous for in time. Narcissa, the youngest, so easily led…wife, sister and mother to alleged Death Eaters, it seemed she'd never know peace. He remembered her as a teenager, a pretty girl that many boys liked, but—always conscious of the duty she owed her family—she never encouraged them. Well, except for one…and Lucius had collected her and show her her 'rightful' place…it seemed now that she had everything she ever wanted, except peace of mind.

Horace watched her son—in class, in the halls, at meals—and saw him breaking down under the strain of what Horace was certain was much more than mere schoolwork. Draco had the increasingly desperate air of a drowning man. Horace suspected he was up to his ears in something he had belatedly realized was too big for him. Was he destined to become yet another young life, full of promise and opportunity, prematurely destroyed in one way or another by Lord Voldemort? Was there any way to halt the process before it was too late? Was it even worth trying?

The surface of the empty bowl gleamed in the candlelight. Somehow, inexplicably, it gave him hope. There was still time for Draco; still a frightened boy inside yearning for guidance. Severus, of course, had turned his life around, and even if he was—as Horace suspected—living with the guilt of whatever it was he'd done, at least Dumbledore's trust in him gave Horace hope that he'd found a way to atone. Harry Potter, Lily's boy…with her beautiful green eyes…the rumors abounded that he was the 'Chosen One,' perhaps destined to defeat Lord Voldemort. Surely Lily was watching over him, protecting him…the strength of her love had saved him once, and in doing so had saved them all. But unlike the charm that had made the fish in the glass bowl, perhaps this magic would survive even death itself.

Lily's life may have been cut short, the opportunities Horace had proudly envisioned for her had promptly died when she had, but Horace could now see that it hadn't all been a waste. Lovely Lily, his favorite student, had been called to a higher destiny. She had met that opportunity without flinching, horrible though it may have seemed. And she very well may have provided the means to save them all. Perhaps they were all part of some great plan…

If only Horace could see what it was, and know for certain how many more of his charges would be lost in service to the plan.


End file.
